Boredom
by fluidstatic
Summary: “That flouncing cheeky little rat,” Balthier said. “I should teach him the proper way to prank a man.” BalVaan crackfic, for April Fool's day.


**Boredom**

The moon was doing its best to outshine the campfire. Balthier thought it rather charming the way it threw the tents into sharp relief on the sand; then he chuckled, contemplating his change of mood and luck. Just two nights before he'd been cursing the moon, all for the sin of beaming handsomely down on him while the others shunned his existence. He was, after all, a hateful thieving Judge, liar, snake, probable rapist, traitor, bastard – take your pick. Vaan had nearly gouged out his eyes at the revelation that he was Ffamran Mid Bunansa Archades. But now, things had come to a pleasant level; Ashe had forgiven him his deceit, and the others had quietly followed suit, upon reflection. Even Vaan was speaking to him now – though it was mostly whining.

Speaking of Vaan –

"Um, Balthier?"

Balthier turned lazily, cocked his head. "Yes? Something on your mind?"

"I just... wanted to apologize for... y'know, the other day. What I said." The boy's face was oddly tight and drawn, as if he were trying not to say something very unpleasant. He glanced at his bare feet, half buried in sand, and chewed on his bottom lip.

Balthier got to his feet. "And what would that be?"

"Well, I said you were a... liar and a bastard and... I'd never speak to you again."

"You did," Balthier agreed dryly, recalling Vaan's vibrantly red screaming face, his doubled fists, his eyes streaming tears. "But I deserved it."

Vaan plucked one foot from the sand and inspected it. "Maybe you did, but I just... sorry." He was blushing. Balthier frowned, genuinely puzzled.

"It's quite all right. Water under the bridge. Are you feeling quite...?" 

"Balthier," Vaan said suddenly.

"Yes," Balthier prompted. "That is my name, last I checked."

"I just..." He swallowed the next syllable, plunged his foot back in the sand again anxiously. Balthier raised an eyebrow. Vaan tried again. "I wanted you to know that..." He took two unsteady steps forward, tilted his head conspiratorially. "I think you should know that, um."

Balthier frowned, leaned forward. "Spit it out, won't you? I...."

Vaan kissed him. Collided with him, in fact, mouth first. Balthier went rigid as a board with alarm as Vaan's hands knotted in the yoke of his shirt and flung his body _entirely _too close. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut; his lips were entirely inexperienced, clearly; his hands were groping and furtive and warm, and _eager_... Penelo was surely back at the tent wondering where the boy had run off to, not to mention he was constantly trying to look up Ashe's skirt at inopportune moments and had far too many questions about Vieran anatomy for common curiosity so _what in bloody hell was going on? _

Balthier caught Vaan awkwardly by the shoulders, pushed him back an inch. Vaan's eyes flew open and regarded him with such naked _adoration_ that the pirate wondered if perhaps he had died and gone to hell, but failed to notice. These things tended to happen to godless men, after all.

"Vaan, what..." Balthier managed.

Vaan turned pink. "I... I... yeah," he said, his eyes flickering to the sand. And then he was off, running toward camp at alarming speed.

"Heth, and damn, and Zeromus and _Heth,_" Balthier muttered, raking his fingers through his hair. "Just... what? ...Lovely."

***

Ten minutes later Balthier trudged back to camp, slipped into the proper tent, and beseeched the voice of reason sleeping there in his bedroll.

"Fran..."

"Hmm?" she purred, ears twitching sleepily.

"Are we all dead?"

She opened her eyes, blinked twice at him. "I believe not."

"Then have I gone mad?"

Fran leaned her head on one hand, regarded the look of faint terror that graced Balthier's eyes. "I think not. But why do you inquire?"

"Vaan just kissed me," he said, still perplexed by the thought even as the words came from his mouth.

Fran sat up and twitched both ears in syncopation. "I beg your pardon?"

Balthier pinched the bridge of his nose. "He kissed me," he repeated, "And eagerly. I... Heth."

Fran's ears twitched again, more thoughtfully, her eyes peering into middle distance. After a moment she turned her head, blinked languidly.

"It is nearly one in the morning," she said.

"Fran. Not that I don't adore your non-sequiturs, but I'm a little..."

"Ffamran," Fran interjected knowingly. "What day is it?"

Balthier frowned, paused to think. "If I recall properly, it's April the..."

April the first. All Fool's Day. The hideous custom of playing pranks on the first of April flooded his memory – bootblack instead of ink in his fountain pens, salt instead of sugar in his morning tea, love letters from hated rivals at Akademy, painted all up in hearts – (_Ffamran, forgive my awful scrawl but I'm ever so nervous. I never thought I'd ever love anyone, but a man like you...)_

Balthier snorted. "Bugger," he said.

Fran smiled faintly. "Vaan is still laughing," she whispered. "I can hear him even now."

"That flouncing cheeky little rat," Balthier said. "I should teach him the proper way to prank a man."

"It is your duty," Fran agreed. "Though you must be careful not to injure his feelings. Young love is fragile, after all."

"Fran, really," Balthier groaned, laying down beside her. She giggled, a tiny glottal sound fluttering in the back of her throat, and threw the blanket over them both.

***

At breakfast, Vaan refused to look Balthier straight in the eye. The pirate humored him; when he handed the boy an arrow speared with a bit of fish, their fingers brushed. Balthier cleared his throat quietly, and Vaan blushed handsomely in kind.

Penelo noticed. Penelo _knew._ She squirmed, doubtlessly trying not to giggle. Balthier forced his smirk into submission and bided his time. Theatrics played against theatrics, jest against jest; t'was a lovely game. How he missed it...

"Penelo," he said at last, perhaps a little sadly. "Might I speak with you a moment?"

"Um? Oh, sure," she said, entirely casual, entirely innocent. Deceptive little witch. Balthier got to his feet and gestured down the beach, and she followed.

"Penelo, dear," he said, wearily. "I must admit... I'm at a loss."

Penelo frowned. "You look like you haven't slept at all, Balthier. What's wrong?"

"Something's come to my attention." Balthier let a bit of wistfulness into his eyes. "Vaan, well... it would seem he fancies me."

Penelo stopped in her tracks – perhaps a little too dramatically – and let her eyes widen. "He...? Oh, Vaan. He told you?"

The pirate gave a slow, sad smile. "You knew, did you?"

Penelo glanced at her feet, rather adorably. "He never really said anything. But we've been around each other for a long time, and... you just pick up on these things after a while." (The little thing was quite the actress. Balthier made a mental note to pay her more mind in the future.)

"Naturally," He agreed, picking at his fingernails in what he hoped was an entirely embarrassed manner. "But, I must admit, I feel the fool. If I'd known sooner, well..." He glanced over at her, arranging his face in injury, hesitation, and slight (slight, damn it all) amusement – "To think... I might have spared him the stress of making the first move. I was keeping mum for his sake, but... I thought he wouldn't... Well."

Penelo's face widened slightly, and he saw the words in her eyes, as clearly as though she had spoken them: _Oh, no._

"The boy's a vision, Penelo," he heard himself say, and wondered how long Fran would heckle him for it. "A vision. Clever, and strong, swift on his feet and light with a jest - and... well, listen to me go on."

Penelo went slightly pink. The smile that chased over her face a moment later was forced; she was trying ever so hard to be happy for him. Poor darling girl.

"I'll never know why I felt the need to feign my distaste of him," Balthier confessed, gleefully watching her thoughts chase each other around her head. "But do you think I should make a go of it? Now that I've let him down, idiot that I am... would that be cruel?"

"I..." She looked at her hands, "I don't know."

"I'm entirely remiss, saddling you with this, darling," Balthier demurred feverishly. "But I would be in your debt to the ends of the earth – talk to him, won't you? Convince him to make another try, as it were?"

"I... Balthier..." She looked up at him, shocked; her eyes were glittering with indecision. Balthier assumed a helpless expression and pressed his lips together, a gesture that stifled the urge to laugh and hopefully made him all the more pathetic.

Penelo quailed. "I'll do my best," she said.

"Penelo, darling, you're my salvation," Balthier said, rewarding her with his best relieved smile (complete with lowered lashes and a blush; long proven to be entirely lethal to any woman under the age of twenty). She smiled thinly in reassurance, squeezed his hand, and flounced up the beach; every step she took in her retreat spoke of complete and utter alarm and despair.

"Good girl," Balthier murmured, watching her go. "Good, sweet, dear Penelo."

***

That night at supper, Fran wore her hair down. She claimed she was merely letting it dry after bathing in the sea, but every half minute or so her profile would disappear behind a curtain of silver waves. No doubt she was laughing fit to split. Basch kept glancing at Fran and clearing his throat, even as Ashe flicked her eyes from pirate to urchin with a look of complete distaste for the twentieth time.

Ah – an admiring audience.

Meanwhile, Penelo was white as parchment, and Vaan had doubtlessly never been so quiet in his life. He focused intently on the detritus from a handful of roasted dates, wearing an expression of utmost fascination that barely hid his panic.

"Ahem," Basch said at length – as Fran emerged from behind her hair – "Penelo, have you scouted ahead to the camp this evening?"

Penelo startled at the onset of reasonable conversation. "What? Um... Oh yeah. Yeah, I did. Nothing's out of place. We shouldn't have any trouble getting through in the morning."

"Well," Balthier said, stretching lazily. "A spot of good news. That's one less thing for me to be worried about..."

Balthier made a very deliberate glance toward Vaan, who averted his eyes in a pointedly guilty fashion. Penelo pressed her lips together.

"Er... Vaan," Balthier said at last – the boy jumped – "Care for some help with the dishes tonight?"

Vaan loathed kitchen detail and everyone knew it. Balthier watched him weigh his options – scrub dishes in cold seawater all by his lonesome in the dark, or face whatever terrible demon of affection he'd awoken in the pirate? He was trying to appear casual, that much was plain, but it was a rather pathetic effort.

"Uh, yeah," he said at last. "Thanks."

Balthier smiled ever so faintly. "Of course."

Basch cleared his throat for the tenth time in as many minutes, and across the fire, Ashe narrowed her eyes. _When I'm made Queen, damned pirate, you'll be first to die. _

Balthier flickered half a smirk at her as he rose from the fire, and Fran's hair fell over her face again.

***

The dishes were reduced to quick work with the effort of four hands, but when the last plate had been polished, Balthier hesitated.

"Vaan," he said carefully, "About last night; I..."

"Yeah," Vaan said, scratching the back of his neck. "Listen, I'm glad you said something. About that..."

"No, please. I've been trying to figure out what to say all day, and if I don't I'll... Well, Heth and damn. What a thing to do to a man, Vaan."

"M'sorry," Vaan mumbled, looking down at his feet.

Balthier could feel Fran's eyes on him from a hundred meters up the beach, and he almost smirked. "Vaan, don't... don't apologize," he stammered. "If you'd just hold still for two minutes and listen to me. You're a better pirate than I, in a way – oh, we're running, always running. But hold on a moment... Just..."

The pirate edged toward Vaan – pale under his tan, shaking, eyes flickering with badly veiled _oh god don't touch me_ - and laid his hand against the boy's shoulder. "Just let me ask you something..." he said, breathless, imploring.

"What?" Vaan squeaked.

Balthier brushed one thumb along Vaan's shoulder absently; they were mere inches apart now, and Vaan was almost vibrating with anxiety. The pirate felt laughter crackling beneath his ribs even as he blinked languidly – Fran's best trick – and whispered;

"Vaan, I... do you... do you have any idea... _any idea..."_

Vaan stood frozen, hypnotized. He wet his lips, fidgeted... and then –_ victory – _blushed, entirely girlish, flattered, almost won over. "I didn't think you..." he stammered.

Balthier softened his eyes. "Oh, but I did. Vaan – I did... I do..."

When Vaan's face widened with terror he tilted his chin downward, smirked darkly. "But what's the date, you little shit?"

Vaan froze – then leapt backward like he'd been burnt. _"You!" _He shrieked.

Balthier turned a hard left and ran like hell for camp, giggling. He could already hear Penelo shrieking her indignation, and there was Fran, arms wrapped around her ribs, wracked with spasms of silent giggling. Basch shook his head, thundering with laughter.

"_I fucking hate you!" _Vaan shouted, running breakneck after him. _"I'm gonna kill you, you slimy bastard!"_

"You'll have to catch me first," Balthier shot over his shoulder. "And you never will. _Ahahahaha."_

"_I'll hold him down for you, Vaan," _Penelo yelled; the pirate feinted left around the campfire, then darted right. "Balthier, you... Damn it, I thought you were serious... _get back here._"

"My sides," Fran gasped.

"You're all children," Ashe said darkly, as Basch wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. "All of you."

Breathless, Balthier finally skidded to a halt and rewarded her disgust with a low bow. "At least... ah... we've not been... bored."

Presented with the chance, Vaan leapt on Balthier's back and wrested him to the sand – he just lay back and cackled.


End file.
